


Reaching for Shamrocks

by Ispentlike20minutesonthis



Category: Anti, jacksepticeye
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self Harm, Septiishu, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Tension, Sexual assualt, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-07-17 22:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ispentlike20minutesonthis/pseuds/Ispentlike20minutesonthis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whitney is just trying to get her life back in order. One day a crying girl walks into her Starbucks and a bond is created. In trying to bring a couple back together she falls in love with the beautiful man named Sean (Jacksepticeye). But as they grow closer a darkness lurks in the shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> This story will have rape and sexual assault and self harm so read at your own risk. I will let you know which chapter it is but just a general warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a cool little work skin now thanks to the awesome human over on twitter @red_maybe_bb she's rad so go give her a thank you!

  
I would like to take this moment, dear reader, to ruin your hopes for this story. The story you are about to read isn't always happy, and has moments where hopelessness is heavy. But you can blow me. That's just how life is. It sucks sometimes, and you just have to deal with it.  
My name for this little story is going to be something cool, like...Sugar? No, that makes me sound like some kind of stripper, or something. Fuck it. My name is Whitney. No, not that Whitney, though I have been told that I was created to her album... that for some reason is also called Whitney...my parents are just fucking weird okay?  
About three years ago I woke up with this need to get the fuck out of the tiny ass town I had lived in for most of my life. It had always felt uncomfortably small to me, and I always had pipe dreams of leaving it for LA... or something. But one day I woke up and started wandering around the house, you know the kind of wandering you do when your parents leave you alone so you can move your internet use from the dungeon that is your bedroom to the main sitting area? While on one of my rare moments out of my room, I tried making plans with some friends, which was a bust because I had like one friend, who was busy at that moment.  
I am the kind of person who just finds themselves in different places. It's probably something I should get checked out by like a professional or something but fuck it. When I came back to myself I was standing in front of a church by my house, staring at a patch of grass.  
Okay, church may be a bit of an overstatement. The building was an egg washed kind of white, with a sad little roof and little windows, the only thing letting you know it was possibly anything but a creepy building in the middle of the suburbs was the fact that it had a cross hanging over the door. It was plain and ordinary. Yet here I was, standing in front of this church feeling like I was missing something, like a hole was in my chest.  
Then it hit me, like a fucking bus it hit me. A boy was laying in the grass with a girl buried deep in what must have been the boys jacket. She looked cold and miserable yet she was still sitting next to this boy. It was pitch black, the only thing illuminating their faces was a single street light and it gave them a hollow look to their eyes.  
"James, if she is cheating on you, it isn't the end of the world. You can find a girl so much better then her." the girl offered timidly  
"She was the first girl I ever loved" the boy proclaimed to the night sky, leaving a puff of fog behind his words. A train whistled in the distant and frogs sang, the girl sat up and smiled.  
"It's so peaceful this late at night...or is it morning?" She gave a small laugh before turning back to the boy. She wanted to kiss him.  
"Don't be all cute and think I will just be happy and I will forget how horrible I feel right now." the boy looked like he was going to cry.  
"Well, if you do leave her...maybe we could give it a try? I don't like the sneaking around...and when you think about it, what we are doing isn't any better-" the boy cut the girl off with a hand in the air.  
"This is different. I'm trying to help you, to show you what a real love looks like. This is just business."  
I wanted to shout, to scream. To run to the girl and tell her what a horrible choice she was making. This boy is going to hurt you, I wanted to tell her. But I kept my feet planted firmly until they faded like ghosts, and I was left standing in front of that church, with the sun beating at the back of my neck.  
At this point you are probably wondering why the fuck I am telling you any of this, you don't care about some memory I have, remembering a boy lying to me. About him using me. But this moment, watching those ghosts in their endless loop, was the moment I decided I just couldn't take it anymore.  
After that moment in front of the church, I saw ghosts everywhere. No place was safe, every turn of my head I saw things I had done to myself and to others. All of my good days and every single one of my bad days. Each one on display for me to feel guilt over. I found a globe in a box in our attic and said fuck it. I let the globe spin and where ever it landed I promised I would live there, if only for a year. I would go anywhere to escape the endless piles of ghosts.  
I landed on the middle of Ireland. Which upon doing some digging was called Athlone. A small town beside a river with only 100,000 people. And not one of them would know me for the history I had created. It was perfect. I spent several months planning, and saving. Then I bought myself a plane ticket.  
And that, my young reader, is where our story really begins.


	2. My shitty job

Fucking rain. Something they always talk about when it comes to Ireland but you never really think it's that bad, is fucking rain. I mean I come from fucking Washington where it rains buckets, yet here I was walking to work in the fucking rain and most people back home would have told me I was walking in a goddamn tsunami! Water in my boots, water in my hair. You might be wondering how I can get so wet (don't be gross). I mean don't I have an umbrella? Yes, thank you, my umbrella how could I have forgotten! My umbrella is a green kids umbrella with frogs all over it I bought at the airport FOUR YEARS AGO and this town sells new ones for basically 20 American dollars. No thank you. I will stick with my shitty froggy umbrella.  
When I run inside the Starbucks I am greeted with a condescending smile from my co-workers.  
"Poor little American girl can't handle the rain," Jerry calls to me while the other barista cackles, well fuck all of you assholes. I smile and joke about the rain being so shit and I'm not used such weather. This is what they expect of me, the cute little American girl who's good at keeping my head down and getting my job done. I have worked here for almost three months since I moved to town and each day I invent new ways to kill Jerry without getting caught. So far I have thought of about 97 ways. Jerry is sweet to all of the people who come into the shop, but to me he remarks about how I mustn't be used to actually working without blowing my boss. One time while I was handing coffee over to a customer he came up behind me and touched my ass. I froze and fought every urge in my body not to fucking rip his heart out. Would you like to know his excuse when I asked him why he touched me?  
"'ighten up love. I thought you American girls were more fun." I didn't question him after that. He is after all the bosses son.  
So it's raining like always when a different customer comes in. She's blonde and pretty, with beautiful eyes. She looks like she's been crying.  
"Can I help you?" I ask as softly as possible but she still jumps at the sound of my voice.  
"Oh um. I just want some hot chocolate please." She mutters back at me,  
"Can I get your name please sweetie?" I try to sound as motherly as possibly. I may be the loudest most blunt person you will ever meet, but at the same time when I see someone who is in pain I cannot help but want to make them feel better.  
"Singe" she smiles at me as I scribble down her name. I add a little message and a turtle in the hopes that she finds joy in the gesture. When Jerry calls her name I am busy with a different customer, but as she sits down I watch her read my message and we lock eyes when she has finished reading.  
"Thank you" she mouths  
"No biggy" I shrug back. A man runs into the store, he has wild green hair and looks like he could use a good nights sleep. He runs to Singe and hugs her, whispering something to her. It looks like I love you but I can't really tell. Singe locks eyes with me again before she stands and says  
"I'm sorry Sean but, I need you to be there for me. If you can't do that then I'm going home." And then she is gone and the man is left standing there for a moment. He leaves about three minutes later.  
"Fuckin people should keep their lives at 'ome not out for everyone to see" Jerry scoffs when the couple is long gone from the shop.  
"Fuck you Jerry" I mutter.  
"So Whitney how's looking for a flat work'in out for ye?" The other barista asks. She isn't really interested in my reply, it's slow and she wants to bother me instead of cleaning tables.  
"It's going well" fucking lair  
"If yer interested there's these flats down on the river up for let."  
"I'll look into it." And that's the end of that. We don't really speak again until my shift is over when I politely say goodbye to both her and Jerry.  
I looked into the apartments down on the river and find, to my shock, that I haven't been tricked but a cheap rent one bedroom apartment on the river has opened up.


	3. Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay for starters I have been told by my editor that this chapter seems a bit unrealistic, however I would like to state that when I am depressed I also get tattoos and I actually one time was in this exact same situation with someone and made a really good friend out of it. So suck it these weird things happen.

When I am depressed I do one of two things, I either self harm or get a tattoo. More often then not I can get a tattoo. It's become my coping skill for depression. Seeing as how drugs and therapy have yet to do any good for me, ink seems to be the only thing keeping me on soiled ground. Today is a Saturday, which means I have gotten up at 4am to deep clean my apartment and found that I am alone with my thoughts. Being alone to sit with your mind when you have not only depression but also anxiety can bring a person to make horrible decisions; and if you hadn't noticed yet I am the queen of making bad decisions. I realized however that if I was going to solve my issues by getting inked I would have to change because the limp messy bun, stained sweat pants, and oversized white tee where not cutting it.

Okay so people have told me since high school that "you have such great style" when in reality this is how I get dressed everyday. Picks up shirt, smells it, puts it on. Picks up pants and/or skirt and/or leggings, smells it, puts it on. Finds shoes that I think match, puts them on. Is ready to do shit in the big boy world today.  
That's basically all I do. Like every single morning. Other days I feel the need to put in effort, and then there are days when I could give less of a fat fuck what other people think about how I look. Today however I decided I needed to look semi like a functional adult and spent a good hour and a half getting ready.  
When I was decent I grabbed my backpack on my way out and bolted down my front steps. In retrospect I probably should watch my surrounds more carefully so that things like these not happen but fuck it.  
*BANG*  
I hit the pavement hard enough to knock the air from my lungs and my tail bone feels a tad bit bruised.  
"Fuck!" I scream when my body overloads on the pain factor. I look up to see that I have collided with a man with fuzzy features. It is then that I realize my glasses have fallen somewhere and I cannot see. "Just great" I mumble to myself as I pat the surrounding pavement to find my stupid fucking glasses. I would like to point out that if I could I would just wear some goddamn contact lenses, however I have these two problems with my stupid eyeballs that they make separately for contacts but not together in one set of contacts. As I pawed around for my glasses I realized that maybe today was just going to be a fucking shitty day and I was just going to have to live with that.  
"Here you are" a voice spoke behind my left ear, my glasses were placed in my hands and I fumbled to shove them back into place. When I could see the features of the man I had collided with became clearer. He had striking blue eyes and a goofy little smile, like he was embarrassed. The thing that bothered me though, was his fucking hair. I could not for the life of me figure out what the importance was of it, but I knew that I had seen that fluffy patch of grass somewhere else before.  
"Thanks" I tried my best to make it sound polite but I'm sure it sounded just as annoyed as I felt. The man held out his hand,  
"I'm Sean. You're new here right?" His accent was a lot...less then what I had expected. He was Irish but it was a lot more muted. He didn't speak in the way that my tattoo artist did, he sounded kind of like he had grown up in a place other then here based on the way he talked.  
"Nice to meet you" I plastered on a smile and shook his hand. I waited for the "oh you must be a college student" or the "ever been to (insert really big ass city here)" comments, but they never came.  
"You seem to be late for something so I won't keep you" he made a move to leave but at the same time he seemed to have something to say. Remember how I said I make really poor decisions? Well this was kind of one of those moments where if I had a twin she would look at me and say "what the fuck do you think you are doing?"  
"I'm actually on my way to get a new tattoo...you wanna join me?" The words fell out of my mouth like I had dropped a couple of pennies. They clung in the air and I wanted to fummble them back into my big stupid mouth. Who the fuck invites a total stranger to watch them get ink stabbed into their body?  
"What?" Sean asked a bit confused, he laughed a bit so he must have found it amusing.  
"Well it's just, you seem like you are one of those guys who likes to try new things. You wanna watch me get something on me that will last forever?" Was I flirting with this guy? I sounded like I was flirting with this guy. Stop flirting with this guy!  
"Well, I mean I don't have anything I'm doing right now. But I just met you"  
"Life is short and you are hot. Come watch me get a tattoo" okay wow, yeah I was not even trying to hide my shame. Good fucking job Whitney. Sean let out laugh that started in his chest and got higher in pitch as it went along. He seemed to think I was either hilarious or really fucking stupid.  
"You know what fock it! Let's go"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I spelt that "wrong" but it's how Sean says the word so deal with it :p


	4. Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been gone for a month because life happens sometimes, not sorry about it.

My tattoo shop is this little hole in the wall place right beside a smoke filled pub. It looks like something you would see in a TV show where they bust drug dealers. Inside the tattoo shop however my artist, and the owner of the joint, Mickey has turned it into a colorful master piece. The walls have big beautiful murals of forests, oceans, and even random designs. I found the place on one of my walks, the ones I took when I didn't know how to help myself from feeling like garbage. Mickey saw me looking in his window and offered me a cup of steaming coffee. Ever since Mickey first met me he has become like a grandfather to me. He is a fiery, dirty old man; but he cares about my well being. Sometimes I just call him when I need someone to make me feel less alone. He has learned that if I call his shop instead of his cell it's because something is wrong and I need to pay him to stab me till I bleed a bit and have ink in my body for the rest of my life. When I first came to Ireland I had just one professional tattoo, since living here I have gained 45 more. What does that tell you about my bad days? Don't worry each of these tattoo's are in places that can't be seen if I wear a t-shirt, but tank tops are out. The only bit of ink that I have that is visible Mickey didn't even give me. I think he's kind of annoyed about it.  
"'Ere she is!" Mickey shouts when I step my foot inside the shop, Sean blinks at the volume of Mickey's voice.  
"You'll get used to him" I offer as I walk into the shop like its my own apartment. I walk straight to the tattoo chair and take off the hoodie I had been wearing, the shop is a bit warmer then it normally is for some reason.  
"An' 'ho's this 'ere lad?!" Mickey booms as he walks out from the black current that separates his home from the shop. Mind you this place is about the size of most peoples living rooms, so it's not like Sean can just hide some where. Sean holds out his hand to Mickey and they just hold hands for a moment, like they are studying each other before the give one firm shake.  
"Mickey play nice this is Sean, he's a friend" I toss a wink at the green haired Irishmen. Seriously Whit stop fucking flirting with the guy you just met! It's so unclassy...she says as she is sitting in a tattoo parlor with said guy.  
"'Ell lov' 'emme see what yer tinkin a gettin terday" before I met Mickey an accent like his would have made me go the fuck did you just say, but now I feel like you could have the thickest accent and I'd get what you said. I smiled and pulled out my phone, remember how I said Mickey is a bit jealous that his art isn't in places most people can see? Well I thought for once I'd let the old guy give me a tattoo on my virgin right forearm. Year's ago I had forced my father to write "I am not a gun" on a piece of paper until I thought it looked perfect, when I was satisfied I took a picture and told him it was my next tattoo. Now that was a huge lie, as you can tell by my 46 some odd tattoo's, however I realized before smacking into Sean that I was saving this tattoo for a vary vary vary bad day when I really needed it. Mickey smiled as he looked at the picture on my phone, he always did when I showed him my basic concepts for the ink he was going to place on me.  
"And it's you're lucky day Mick old pal, because its going on my right forearm."  
"Praise te lord!" He cracked a smile and clasped his hands, mocking me.  
"And he will be next" I added as Mickey went around the shop looking for his equipment.  
"Wait you were serious?" Sean seemed scared,  
"Come on Sean where's your sense of adventure?" I batted my eyes at him,  
'"My friends call me Jack by the way, sense we are friends apparently" he corrected.  
"Oh well JACK is getting a rainbow tramp stamp there Mick" I yelled, Jack jumped slightly and looked concerned  
"No he isn't!" He yelled back fighting a smile,  
"Well better think of something pretty boy, because Mick is a fast worker. He'll have my designs polished and placed in no time" true I had basic ideas of what each of my tattoo's were going to look like, but I always gave Mickey free reign to design them after that. He always pleased me when he would hold up his sketch of how to make my design would look better. I trusted him and he had yet to let me down. Each bit of art on my back, shoulders, and thighs was a master piece in and of itself.  
"Ow's 'is 'lov?" Mickey came back with his sketch and held it to my face. The words were still in my fathers handwriting but Mickey had added splashes of color that reminded me of how water color paintings dry. I smiled and told him to do it. As Mickey worked Jack watched me, I was wearing a white sear tank top and a black cross-over bralette under neath. At first I thought he was staring at my boobs but I soon realized he was tracing my other tattoo's with his eyes. He seemed lost in the different patterns and colors. I broke his stare with a simple,  
"Take a picture it'll last longer"  
"Sorry! I was just looking at you're other tattoo's. How many do you even have?"  
"Counting the one Mickey is doing 47...I think." I was getting to the point where keeping track was becoming a hassle.  
"Wow that's impressive." Jack looked like he was about to ask me something but Mickey cut him off by telling me I was done. I smiled and stood up, my face was inches from Jack's  
"You're up buddy boy." I teased moving aside so he could sit down in the black leather chair. Jack sat down slowly, as if the chair might bite him or something. But as he settled down he gave me a nervous smile. He whispered in Mickey's ear and I acted hurt and walked to the other end of the parlor. I ran my fingers carelessly over the art on the walls, like I had done countless times before. I have a feeling that I could trace them perfectly with my eyes closed and if you spun me thirty-five times. When Jack was done we walked over to the front doors and I begged to see Jack's ink, he kept it covered and told me not to look. I sighed and told Mickey it better be a good one, I went to pay for both of us but Jack stopped me  
"What are you doing,"  
"What's it look like I'm doing idiot I'm paying."  
"You don't have to pay for me"  
"Too late" I smirked as I handed my wad of cash over to Mickey. (I'll explain that later pinky promise). Jack watched Mickey take my money in amazement.  
"You just carry 300 euro on you?"  
"Yes...is that a problem?" I asked innocently while I put my jacket back on. I grabbed Jack by the hand and lead him back out to the street. About two blocks away from the parlor I realize I am still holding Jack's hand and quickly drop him, I looked sideways at him and he seems unfazed by the simple gesture.  
"So, you gonna tell me what you got?"  
"You'd think I was weird" I laughed at this remark, knowing that I personally have some tattoo's other people might find extremely weird. Jack changed the subject,  
"So Mickey and I got to talking," he remarked carefully,  
"Oh?"  
"About you, how often you go in" he didn't say anything but I felt like the rest of his sentence was "why you go in that often." I immediately stiffen and become a bit cold, realizing the conversation that must have occurred. Fuckin Mickey trying to be a nice guy but has no goddamn filter I swear, in hindsight though Mick did think me and Jack were pals so he must have assumed Jack already knew about my depression and other issues. Being the way I am I turned to Jack when we reached our apartments, sorry flats, and smiled before running into my how safe haven. I realize that was rude, I even peeked out my window and saw he was just standing at the bottom of my steps looking like a kicked puppy. I felt like I had kicked a puppy for fuck sake. But I didn't go back out, I felt exposed. Mick was the only person who knew everything about me, and I had no idea what details he had decided to share with Jack. For some reason though as Jack walked away from my steps his green hair kept shouting at me. Like I had missed someone huge.


	5. Oh You!....oh. you.

I was closing the cafe when the blonde girl from a few weeks ago timidly wandered through the door. I greeted her and said we were closed. Her face fell and she said   
"I just wanted a hot chocolate and a nice person to talk with" her eyes were glued to the floor. I thought fuck it, I'm alone anyways who's to stop me. I pulled my uniform apron over my head and poured some water into a kettle. I took a few chairs down and told her to sit.  
"I thought you left town?" I mused  
"I did...I came back to get somethings I'd left behind."  
"You wanna talk about it?" Singe nodded  
"I left because he was always so busy with work, I felt second class you know? On top of that because of his work I get called everything in the book by some of his...clients. I mean they say some of the nastiest things!" She looked shaken when the kettle whistled, like she thought someone would attack at any moment. I held a finger up to pause the conversation. I crushed up some candy canes and put them at the bottom of two mugs, then poured the water and the coco powder. (A/N I do this with my coco I suggest you try it sometime!)   
"Thank you." Her face lit up when she took a sip   
"I know it's good right" I chuckled taking a sip myself  
"You need to tell me how to make that." She smiled at me, it made her look more relaxed then I think she had been in a long while.   
"So his job put a lot of stress on you and him?" I asked lightly  
"So much so that...well I became pregnant recently and didn't tell him because he stated before he wasn't in a place with work to have kids, no time he said, I was so stressed out that I well...I miscarried." I choked on my coco, my heart started to tighten like I might have a panic attack, I ground my teeth together and forced sympathy onto my face  
"It's fine really it was so early that I wasn't really effected to much by the whole thing ya know?" I nodded sipping my coco in order to give my head something to focus on.  
"Well anyway when it happened it was the last straw. I left. If the stress was so bad then why would k stay?"   
"Because you loved him. Still love him I see" I offered.   
"I really do"  
"Then take the poor guy back! He seemed just as tired and stress as you when he came running in after you the other day! His hair looked like he'd been pulling it out..." I froze suddenly, the man who ran after Singe, his hair was green wasn't it? He has tired blue eyes...kind of like,  
"Seán works really hard and I know he cares about me but his job is so much pressure to look a certain way...are you okay?" I snapped my head up and realized I had been gripping my cup so hard my knuckles had turned pure white. I set my mug down on the table and folded my hands like a land in my lap.  
"Yes sorry I'm grand" I tried to mimic Audrey Hepburn's character from Breakfast at Tiffany's. Poised, graceful, charming, a girl who had class. Whilst internally I was slowly beating myself up for flirting with and almost kissing this poor girls boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, a little voice in the back of my head sang.   
"Right. Well anyways, maybe I shouldn't have moved out here so quickly. I dropped everything at home just to be with him. I still had my job thankfully but...my sister my parents. God I was so stupid."   
"I live next door to him now. He's a reck he needs you" it flooded out of me in a frenzy. It was a plead for her to take pity on him, to see him again.   
"You live there now?" Singe seemed a bit shocked, she drew back a little.   
"Yes my co-worker told me about a flat opening up and I hated living so far from work so I moved. To be fair Seán ran into me knocking the wind out of me, he's lucky I didn't kick his ass" I heard the bells of Singe's laughter.   
"He is such a klutz sometimes" she smiled.   
"True fact" I stated picks up my mug again.   
"You think I should talk with him?"   
"Definitely! He's a nice guy and he loves you!" And I secertly want to sleep with him but let's forget that tiny detail for a moment and be a good fuckig person for once!


	6. Busking and Milkshakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good. Lord. It's been a spell hasn't it! Sorry about that! I have been in the hospital...

I promised Singe I would help her speak to Sean, only issue was I was avoiding him like the pleauge. Any hint of green and I was gone. He thankfully never came to my work so I never had to deal with him there, but at work I had my own issues. Every day Jerry gets more bold with my personal bubble and each time he does I get closer and closer to smacking him in his smug fucking face and quitting. I could do any job in the city I wanted, I didn't need this. But I didn't do that because I frankly liked my job besides the assholes I was forced to work with.

I couldn't avoid Sean forever, especially if I wanted to keep Singe as a friend. She popped into the store every now and again and it grew into a nice friendship over the fallowing week. I forced her to go shopping, get some new boots. Something to cheer her up.

It was a nice warm sunny Friday afternoon, one of my rare fridays off and an even rarer still sunny day in this Irish town. She spent maybe an hour wandering with me through the shops until she found a cute sweater that was probably too big for her. She looked cozy in it, like it was a hug she desperately needed. 

I watched her try on other outfits and little demons spoke in my mind about how pretty she was. "You're bigger then her. She's so blonde and skinny" they said, in truth Singe was my height but her eyes were a beautiful blue where mine were brown, she had straight blonde hair where mine was short and messy brown. She made me feel like I couldn't be good enough, but at the same time when I tried something on she kept telling me how amazing I looked and how she wished she looked cute in those kinds of shirts. 

Singe was a human being, she had flaws and she had insecurities like the rest of the people in this world. Sure I might have thought she was the picture of perfection but she might not have thought so, her inner demons might be telling her some of the similar things to what mine liked to whisper.

With these things in mind Singe and I decided we could not shop any longer and needed a breather from it all. We were heading back to her hotel when that flash of green happened to be walking our direction. Sean had a big brown paper bag under his arm with tomatos sticking out from the top. He locked eyes with me first and I quickly looked away,

"Oh. Hey Sean." Singe said when she finally noticed him. I couldn't tell if she was pleased to see him or not. Her tone was flat but her eyes pleading, as if she wanted him to drop everything and tell her to come home. 

"So I see you two are friends and all" Sean laughed shifting his groceries to his other arm.

"Yeah actually I guess we are. Is that an issue?" I squared myself up to Sean. He wasn't much taller then myself and I was wearing my leather jacket, I felt like a bitch and I was scared of what he might know about me. 

"No no not a problem at all!" He said quickly never looking away from me. He kept glancing at Singe but she had moved a bit beside me, as if to bolt. 

"Look um Whitney I'm gonna go. This was super fun but I really need to call my mom...she'll be worried" Singe's body language indicated that she wanted desperately for Sean to stop her from going, to kiss her and beg for her to stay. But he didn't see it in her eyes and in the slow way she walked away from where Sean and I stood. I felt dreadful for the girl.

"Whitney-"

"Sean not one word. Yes she and I are friends now. No you aren't the reason. Yes I'm avoiding you." The last bit just kind of slipped out. 

"I figured as much, but might I ask why?"

"You just did" I huffed and headed for home, I quickly realized that Sean was behind me...because he and I lived in the same building...good job ruining the moment Whitney.

"Whitney can we please talk I feel like I did something wrong and if so I want to fix that!" he ran up beside me, paper bag crunching, he reminded me of a little lost dog who fallows you home, the kind you beg your mother to allow you to keep. I held my ground however and just ignored him until I made it to my door.

"You can't ignore me forever!" He yelled from the bottom of my steps


End file.
